In a little old cottage
Up high on a hill
Lived an old woman
Who took lots of pills

She heard through the walls
of her old wooden house
on small dirty feet
they scurried about

Rats! There were rats!
They shuffled and squeaked
While gnawing and chewing
with sharp, pointy teeth

The woman had little
On which they could feed
they fed on each other
and continued to breed

They'd eaten her cat
and chewed up her phone
So she spoke to no one
And was always alone

Little by little
That pitt-pitter-patt
Of their running and squeaking
was driving er mad

One day she saw one
Eating through the window screen
she backed up and then
She finally screamed

They had worn out their welcome
Which they never had
She had to be rid of
all of the rats

She armed herself feebly
with a tired old broom
Then stepped down the hall
and into the bedroom

while wielding her weapon
She cried out in fright
for thousands of vermin
had run into sight

They swarmed in from holes
They'd gnawed into the walls
And she started swaying
as though she would fall

She remembered the broom
And brandished it back
but the rats gave her then
and intense heart attack

She swung it - but feebly
and fell to the floor
where thousands were starving
But not anymore.